


POLLEN

by OwlEspresso



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Healing, Healing Sex, Multiple Warriors of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlEspresso/pseuds/OwlEspresso
Summary: “The power we hold can congeal and grow as we… bond with each other.” The dim lighting of the Rising Stones cast her hair in a delicate sheen. Her fingers drum atop her desk in a constant rhythm, yet another sign of her unease. “This bond can also assist in the restoration and stabilization of one’s aether. Given your… unique condition, it can be an invaluable resource.”
Relationships: Ardbert/Reader/Meteor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	POLLEN

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @WickedWiles for beta-reading this! I literally could not have posted it without your assistance and all of your feedback was so valuable!

“Hydaelyn’s chosen are bonded in ways… unseen and unfelt by most other species and individuals.” Minfilia’s smile is tight, her nervousness betrayed by the twitch to her lips and the look in his eyes.

“The power we hold can congeal and grow as we… bond with each other.” The dim lighting of the Rising Stones cast her hair in a delicate sheen. Her fingers drum atop her desk in a constant rhythm, yet another sign of her unease. “This bond can also assist in the restoration and stabilization of one’s aether. Given your… unique condition, it can be an invaluable resource.”

“We understand you’re very much capable of defending yourself, we think it would be advisable to provide you with two partners who compliment your unique skill set.” She folded her hands in front of her, lightly biting her bottom lip. 

All of these tell-tale signs hint that she’s hiding something. Your stomach churns. Minfilia, who is usually as honest as can be, is hesitating to tell the genuine truth. She may hide her hand when dealing with foreign diplomats, or any other party that does not need to be privy to it, but with you? She’s never lied to you—at least, not to your knowledge.

This does not bode well.

“Okay.” Never had you thought you would be saddled with teammates. The idea is aggravating, to say the very least. If you are to have traveling companions, you would at least like to have a hand in choosing them. 

However, there aren’t many with the echo. The pool which you could pick from is near nonexistent, and you certainly wouldn’t ask Minfilia for help. Not when she has so much on her plate already.

“Before you meet them, I would like to disclose how to most effectively utilize this bond.” Minfilia takes in a deep breath, as though bracing for an impact. “Physical touch is the best conduit for rejuvenating and stabilizing aether between partners. Acts of intimacy yield the highest reward, but even subtle, casual touches can be of use.”

Ah. This is the bombshell she waited so long to drop. Your stomach startles again, this morning’s breakfast rioting against your nerves. You’re all too aware that the partners which they have chosen are meant to be sexual partners as well as teammates. Not once had you been asked for input, not once had Minfilia hinted at the existence of this ability. As much as you trust her to have the Scions best interests at heart, you can’t help but feel distinct unease. She’s done more than select your teammates, she’s done matchmaking.

“Rest assured, we’ve chosen only the best possible for you.” As if sensing your discomfort, she hurries to quell your fear. “They are men of incredible valor and strength. They’ll suit you both on the battlefield and off of it.”

“No offense, but I think I’ll be the judge of that,” you say, lips curling into a slight frown. 

“Of course.” She bows her head in a gesture of acknowledgement, giving you a weary smile. “If they do anything untoward, you are free to cast them aside and inform us. We won’t let that sort of behavior stand.”

“Okay.” You swallow and rein in your temper. There’s no use in growing frustrated when you haven’t even met these… men. Wait, there’s more than one? “How many are there?” The revelations that had been piled atop of you were too sudden and severe. The last thing you could handle was learning you had an entire herd of men meant to tag along with you.

“Only two,” Minfilia assures you immediately. “They’re good, virtuous men, but perhaps it would be better for you to meet them yourself. They’re waiting outside. Would you like me to call them in, or do you need more time to process all of this?”

You would like several days to process “all of this". The weight of each one settles on your shoulders, near driving you to the ground as your world seems to rapidly shift and change around you, regardless of what your wants or desires. If you really thought about it, you could understand her reasoning, but the disgruntled, emotional side of you isn’t in the mood to try.

“Sure.” You sigh, bringing a hand up to rub the bridge of your nose. Your eyes shut as you scramble to gather yourself. It’s impossible to absorb and come to terms with the situation in the few moments you have, but at the very least you manage to put on a straight face as she looks to the door and calls out.

“Ardbert, Meteor, please come in—”

\- - -

The cold Coerthas winds tear at you, snow crunching underneath your boots. Your body is wrapped in layers of cloth, a warm sweater over an undershirt, paired with a long jacket. Still, the brutal temperatures leak through, gripping you to your very bones. More than anything, you want to return to Gridania, to the lush greens currently wrapped in the thrall of a soft summer.

Had you been any less concerned about the snowstorm gobbue that’s been terrorizing Ishgardian soldiers as of late, you might have turned tail and done so. According to locals, it’s been growing in power ever since it surfaced, having gotten its hands (tentacles? tendrils?) on a pile of charged crystals the Ixal left unguarded.

Fatigue bogs you down and rests firm in your body, exhaustion making it difficult to keep your eyes open. Regardless, you persist. These aren’t the worst conditions you’ve had to endure. 

...Even if you’ve never had to endure them whilst in the middle of an aetherical flux. This is the worst time for your levels to destabilize, but you’ve come too far to turn back now. If you leave the monster to its own devices, it’ll move and possibly cause more destruction. You gave the good people of camp Dragonhead your word, and you plan to keep it.

“Do you need to take a break?” Meteor’s voice cuts through your internal griping, low and concerned. 

It’s been a week since he and Ardbert joined you. Much like Minfilia insisted, they’re respectful. Despite knowing their purpose at your side, they haven’t yet broached the topic of physical intimacy. The furthest they’ve done is hold your hand or wrap an arm around your shoulder, usually for the purpose of stabilizing you or moving you out of the way of danger.

“No. I’m fine.” This isn’t the first time you’ve had to brave Coerthas’s malicious weather, and you’re not going to let it deter you now. He doesn’t push, turning to look back at the path ahead of him. The massive, black sword that rests on his back seems to pulse with saturated aether. You can sense it from a few feet away, a steady thrum that you assume is due to his status as a dark knight.

...He’s the first dark knight you’ve met, meaning you can attribute anything particularly weird about him to that very fact.

“Are you sure?” Ardbert’s voice rumbles softly from behind you. “You had better not collapse while we’re in the thick of the fight.”

Your eyebrows furrow, lips curling into a slight scowl. Their concern, while well-intentioned, agitates you regardless. The bitter cold, your flimsy levels of aether and the implication that you’re not strong enough to make the trip without taking a rest make for a chaotic, untamed cocktail of emotion.

“Like I said, I’m fine.” You force additional firmness into your voice to drive the point home. 

Unfortunately, the moment you finish speaking, the ground cracks underfoot and gives way. Your heart jumps at the sudden shock, the world a blur of white around you. Only an arm wrapped firm around your stomach prevents you from toppling only a few fulms downward. Your back meets Ardbert’s firm, armored chest, the abrupt yet gentle impact causing you to gasp. 

His large, warm hand sprawls over your hip, somehow felt through your thick layers.

Your gaze jolts downwards to the spot where you had just been. A rotted log, buried underneath snow and dirt alike had collapsed underneath the weight of time and weather. The adrenaline of the shock gives way to further aggravation—to think you’d been bested by something so minor! The frustration causes you to wiggle in Ardbert’s hold, and after a moment he releases you, muttering an apology.

The ghost of his touch ingrains in your memory, and your body calls for its return in a way you’re not comfortable acknowledging.

“...Still feeling alright?” Ardbert inquires. The lingering “I told you so” in his tone makes your eyebrow twitch.

“Oh, bugger off. There was no way I could have known that was there,” you insist indignantly. “Are you sure it’s not you who needs to take a break? You’re being awfully insistent.”

“I’m not the one who’s been shaking like a leaf for the past fifteen minutes,” he points out.

“I have done no such thing,” you retort curtly, albeit quietly. Determined to do all you can to tune out your companion’s nagging, you make a small game of trying to walk in the heavy footsteps Meteor leaves. Despite the awkwardness that still hangs in the air around you three, Ardbert has grown awfully comfortable in asserting you’re as delicate as glass. It’s likely an assumption he applies to every healer he meets. 

You’ll simply have to prove him wrong. Set him straight. Allay his fears lest he smother you to death.

“I am not some simpering little maiden who requires coddling.” You push your voice louder as you continue to walk. “I do not need chaperoning. The only reason we’ve been put together is because you need someone with my talents to heal you when you get in trouble.”

“Really?” Ardbert inquires, sounding scorned. “You think you would be better off on your own? What? Are you going to pelt every threat you see with that flimsy instrument you call a weapon?” 

“I—” you nearly round to face him. Your jaw tenses, your fists clench, and for a frightening moment animal anger rears up inside you.

It’s most fortunate that Meteor comes to a stop in front of you, extending an arm out. The message is clear. Stand back.

The small clearing you’ve arrived in is covered in a fulm of snow, barren except for the moss-covered, boulder-like mass that sits in the center. Its flank rises and falls with every heavy breath it heaves. You briefly thank the heavens that you’ve managed to find it asleep.

...Mere moments before you realize the plates of the armor your companions wear will likely knock together and awaken it should all three of you attempt a stealthy approach.

“Right then,” Ardbert says quietly, pointedly walking around you to stand next to his mirror image. “Don’t see much point in sneaking. Our best bet is to run up and smack it upside the head, as hard we can. Sound good?”

“That works.” Meteor grasps the handle of his massive blade, hefting it from his back.

Though you agree with this course of action, a part of you cannot help but feel miffed that they had not bothered to wait for your opinion. 

The thought vanishes as Meteor plows through the snow, black armor stark against the far-spanning white.

The battle passes in shuttering frames rather than fluid motion, your coherency and ability to retain the memory of it shaken by the stress. You hold their lives in your hands, you realize, the fresh aether pulsing off your globe.

The creature howls as Meteor’s greatsword notches into its side. A gush of unnervingly clear fluid sprays from the sudden gash as it teeters backwards. It lashes out with an arm as it stumbles, clearly tousling with its pain and fear, kicking up heavy grooves in the snow.

Meteor winces as it manages to nick him on the cheek, but Ardbert is flanking it, sweeping his axe into its other side. They are poetry in pure motion, blades dancing underneath the faint sunlight that manages to seep in through the clouds. Their movements are wide and rotating, characteristic of those who fight with heavier weaponry. The significant ease behind each swipe of the sword or slam of the axe is marvel-worthy, especially accounting for the weight of them.

It’s times like these where you’re glad you can afford to remain on the outskirts of the field, able to admire melee combatants like they deserve but so rarely experience.

It also allows you to take stock of the surrounding environment for everything it is worth, able to spot hazards and oncoming threats that those wrapped up in the battle cannot. In the midst of casting a spell aimed for the creature’s head, your gaze catches upon a movement above the battle—a massive branch cracking and beginning to droop under the weight of the snow.

It’s thick, from one of the larger trees in the area.

Ardbert gasps as one of the gobbue’s tentacled arms hits him straight in the chest, sending him hurtling back a few feet. The air around its wide maw pulses with ungodly cold as it turns its attention to the other gnat at its side—Meteor still plowing through its thick hide with incredible determination, dancing around its hulking form.

The frozen breath it expels in a sudden gush catches on his cloak, sticking him in place. His expression contorts into a grimace, then a gasp as the rest of the hoarfrost hits him. The fine crystals dent his armor, coating it in a thick frost.

One of its thin, whip-like arms extends to finish the blow, nailing him in the side. The frost affixing him to the ground snaps, shards of it spraying into the open air.

The arcane energy that sizzles at your fingertips near burns as it zings from your grip. It jolts across the battlefield, meeting its target perfectly above the offending gobbue’s head. 

The dangling branch snaps, the dead bark splintering as the bulk of it crashes onto the creature, knocking it back to the frigid ground. 

And that’s the end. Your breath sends small puffs of white churning through the air. 

The violent sounds of battle settle into a frozen silence. 

\- - -

Unfortunately, both of your companions had refused your offers to heal them, insisting that they could manage the trudge back to Camp Dragonhead. As inclined as you were to disbelieve them, any time spent arguing would be time wasted. The blizzard that loomed in the distance would surely catch up with the three of you. It nipped at your heels as you hastened in the camp’s direction, keeping a sharp eye on Meteor’s growing limp. 

His expression, for the most part, had remained unchanged. Firm and resolute even whilst suffering.

Only after Haurchefant welcomed you into Camp Dragonhead’s threshold were you able to relax, spirited away to one of the larger spare chambers. A knight stopped by to bring extra kindling. Ardbert set about starting the fire whilst Meteor disrobes of his armor. The pieces clatter against the polished wooden floor, sharp metal giving way to soft underclothes.

His button-up clings to his chiseled form, pecs visible and round through the tight material. It comes next, the hem of it drawn over his head and dropped on a nearby chair. 

The full length of his bare chest makes you swallow. Each muscle is sculpted to perfection, a testament to both his training and long years on the battlefield. His dusky brown nipples perk against the chilled air. Strands of thin, brown chest hair modestly decorate his skim. The trail thins by the time it reaches his abdomen, but thickens as it nears the obvious v-lines of his hips.

Your gaze roams northwards once more, hoping to sneak another glance to that heavenly chest.

Cleavage, you idly observe. You catch yourself wondering how they’d feel in your hands.

He all but flops onto the lone bed in the room, mattress bouncing underneath his weight. Goosebumps sprout across his arms as he adjusts his position. 

The sound of Ardbert’s plate thudding onto the floor snaps you out of your stupor. Your cheeks burn deep, and you can only hope you haven’t been staring too long. 

A smattering of bruises and marks scatter across Meteor’s left side. You struggle not to wince at the sight of them, already blossomed blue and black and green in certain places. The thick fabric of your cloak glides down your shoulders after you undo the clasp, gently placing it on the back of the chair. Your sweater comes next, leaving you clad in your undershirt. The air is warmed from the fireplace, but you feel goosebumps of your own coat your arms at the exposure. 

Your socked feet glide across the floor. Ardbert noisily shuffles out of his attire behind you, doubtlessly working through the innumerable amount of clasps on his person. You’ll never be able to fathom how they can move with such incredible speed whilst bogged down by heavy platemail. 

The mattress dips slightly underneath your knee as you climb atop of it. Meteor rests on the opposite side, gaze lazily tailing your motions. He’s picture perfect underneath the firelight, bare skin softly illuminated. The visual of him looks like it’s leapt from a classical painting, the rich, dark fabric of his pants bunched around his knees. 

“Is… is it alright if I touch you?” Your mouth feels dry, your tongue heavy as you inquire.

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Ardbert pipes up from the other side of the room, climbing out of his boots. 

Your hands curl into the blankets. A stinging retort burns at the base of your throat, mere ilms away from your lips—but a sudden warmth wraps around your wrist, pulling your attention back to Meteor. 

He looks up at you, expression soft, eyelids lowered. The rough skin of his palm is warm against your skin.

“You can,” is all he says. You swallow. 

All you can muster is a small nod as you climb closer. The arcane pulse that roars underneath your skin sparks as the space between your body and his closes. You can’t help the stilted awkwardness to your movements as you rest on your side, elbow digging into the mattress to hold the rest of your body up. This isn’t an easy thing to do—the peculiarities of your particular power has always been at odds with your introverted personality. 

Still. You can’t allow your personal hang ups to get in the way of your teammates’ health. 

Your free hand stretches across that thin divide. Your palm tentatively rests atop his chest, right underneath a swollen pec. His flesh is firm and hot and alive underneath your touch, his body emanating heat like a stoked furnace. 

A soft, green glow emanates from your palm as you stroke down his stomach, touch feather light. He shivers at the contact. Those vibrant eyes slide shut, his head lolling back as he fully sinks into the mattress. Plush lips stutter around a gentle sigh, his tightly-wound muscles beginning to relax under your ministrations. The soothing healing glow streaks over his skin, the bruises and potentially wounded bones beginning to mend.

Your gaze strays from your hand, journeying downwards to the trail of fine hairs that begins at his lower abdomen, granted a new perspective on the prominent V of his hips. Lower, your attention moves, to where a pointed shape is beginning to rise beneath his trouser—oh.

Feeling your cheeks grow unbearably warm, you look back to your hand and continue the outpouring of healing aether. Absentmindedly, your thumb rubs a circle on his skin. His hips cant a tad, body rotating slightly for the sake of pressing closer. Searching unabashedly for more contact, greedily lapping up all you give him.

Your touch still, fingers briefly stiffening as you debate on where to go from here. The hackles of your nerves raise, the gears in your head grinding to a halt 

“And how long does this usually take?” Ardbert sp rudely breaks you from your daze. The bed creaks and dips underneath his weight. He sits at the end on your side, gaze wobbling between the two of you… before looking away entirely. He’s clearly sheepish, and you can’t blame him. 

“Might take half a bell,” you inform him crisply. “And you don’t need to dawdle here the whole time. Can you get some water for him? Maybe something for us to eat?” Hydaelyn knew they’d need to make up for all the energy they’d expended between the trek to reach their mark and the strenuous fight. 

“Alright, alright,” he gives way to your nagging, pushing himself off the mattress, “You’ve made your feelings clear. I’ll go play errand boy while you patch ‘im up, but I still have some hurts I want looked at.” Fortunately, he’s at least kept his shirt on. You rather like it here and you wouldn’t want your reputation to be besmirched by your partner traipsing around bare-chested.

“...Hot cocoa,” Meteor mumbles, opening his eyes to gaze expectantly at their partner. His eyes are bleary, expression dazed. You’ve applied your aether for the purpose of healing and numbing his pain, but in the process it seems that you’ve thoroughly knocked him out. He skirts above the surface of his consciousness.

If there is anyone who could deny such a small request, it is not Ardbert. The warrior huffs a meager laugh, stepping back into his boots.

“Whatever you want. I doubt Haurchefant will need to be pressed too hard for it. The man tries to shove a tankard into my hands whenever I show up.” The door creaks on its aged hinges as he pulls it open, steps into the hall. He casts a short glance over his shoulder. “Keep an eye on him, would you?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” you reply, voice softening. Meteor’s eyes close again, his chest steadily falling and rising as the glow gradually expands to reach his wounded side. His bruised ribs have already started to heal, the ugly markings steadily fading. 

The door clicks shut, casting the room in a benign darkness. The soft firelight caresses you, engulfing you in its serene warmth. Exhaustion pulls at the edges of your mind. Though not involved in the up close thick of the fight, the long trek and the expending of your aether have rendered you just as fatigued as your companions. 

You can’t rest, not until both have been checked over and healed. Ardbert, while not as seriously injured as Meteor, had been wounded during the battle. It would be remiss of you to ignore that for your own sake when it was your entire job to look after him. 

Thus, you stare into the green glow your hand emits and will yourself to stay awake.


End file.
